Ch 48

Ji-an, who had woken up from a deep sleep, sat in front of the low table with a dazed expression, holding a spoon. As he turned his head toward the chicken leg placed prominently in the large bowl before him, his gaze moved to the chicken leg in the grandfather’s bowl. And then, to the grandmother’s empty bowl.

Quickly using his spoon and chopsticks, he moved the chicken leg into the grandmother’s bowl, only for it to be returned just as swiftly with the words, “I like the dry meat.”

Unable to insist twice in the face of the grandmother’s firm tone, Ji-an simply pushed the meat to the side and took a spoonful of porridge. Unconsciously, a small smile formed on his lips. He was reminded of the chicken stew he had eaten with the man.

As he ate the clear, soft, and clean-tasting porridge, Ji-an lightly bit his spoon and stared down at the table. Was there any scorched porridge? Rather than this smooth porridge, he wanted the toasted kind. His eyes drifted toward the grandfather’s bowl, knowing well what that light brown substance beneath the thick chicken meat was.

“Why are you eating so poorly?”

Pulled out of his thoughts about the scorched porridge by the grandfather’s voice, Ji-an quickly let go of the spoon he had been biting and scooped up some porridge in front of him.

“No, it’s delicious. Really, really, grandmother’s cooking is the best.”

“If there’s anything you want to eat, just say so. If we have the ingredients, we’ll make it. These days, kids like fried food, but this is better for the body. Can’t be helped when the stomach is empty. Hurry and eat up.”

“Yes.”

He had never particularly thought about food. If it was there, he ate; if it wasn’t, he didn’t. If he wanted to eat, he ate; if he didn’t want to, he didn’t. He did like pizza, hamburgers, and fried chicken, but that didn’t mean he disliked Korean food.

He ate whatever was given without being picky, but after seeing the scorched porridge in the grandfather’s bowl, that was all he could think about. It was a taste he knew—thicker and nuttier than what he was eating now.

Hesitating, Ji-an’s spoon reached not for the chicken porridge but for the dongchimi on the side. The cold radish water kimchi, with floating ice, cleared the heavy feeling in his mouth. Just then, the grandmother suddenly stood up, causing Ji-an to tilt his head back to follow her movement.

Moments later, he looked at the bowl placed before him, then at the grandmother.

“If you want to eat something, just say so. What’s the point of rolling your eyes around like that? And eat some meat, too.”

The newly placed bowl was filled with scorched porridge, as if scraped from the bottom of the pot. The chicken leg he hadn’t touched had been neatly deboned by the grandmother’s hands and stacked in his bowl.

He had thought he was alone in the world—lonely, exhausted. No matter how much he struggled, he remained in place; no matter how much he ran, he ended up in the same spot.

Yet every time he tried to let go of everything, something pulled him back.

Bo-bo had done that. And now, the grandmother…

His throat tightened, and Ji-an quickly stuffed a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. He must not cry. He must not feel sad. Clamping his mouth shut, he chewed the porridge filling his mouth, unable to lift his head.

Though his pace of eating gradually slowed, the pile of meat in his bowl only grew.

“I know. You can’t finish it all. Just eat as much as you can. If you suddenly eat too much, your stomach will get upset. And old man, after eating, go check on the cattle shed. Change Kkot-soon’s ear muffler, too.”

“You finished making it?”

“What is there to take so long?”

“Do we have any pork left?”

“Yes.”

“Then stir-fry it with aged kimchi for dinner.”

“Alright. Now eat up.”

As the grandmother and grandfather’s casual conversation continued, Ji-an still couldn’t lift his head. He hadn’t even eaten half of what the grandmother had given him, but before he knew it, he was carefully crossing the yard, following the grandfather.

***

“Ha, fuck.”

A road that should have taken just an hour to pass had now trapped Ideun for four hours due to the heavy snowfall, and a curse slipped from his lips. He could see cars around him giving up on driving any further, but he didn’t have that option.

The traffic broadcast he had left on, just in case, kept reporting on the snowstorm.

If he could just go a little further, he would reach the first station where his search was set to begin. No matter what, he had to get there. If he couldn’t get out of this roadblock, he wouldn’t be able to move anywhere else, rest, or even make a decision. His only choice was to push forward.

Where had everything gone wrong?

His obsession with Ji-an, always seemingly within reach but never truly graspable—was that the root of the problem?

From the moment he first saw him in the hotel lobby, every rational and logical thought had disappeared when it came to Ji-an.

Had he ever been so swayed by another person before?

To put it bluntly, there was no benefit in getting involved with Ji-an.

He had no social standing or financial power to offer help. His field of study was of no use to Ideun’s business.

He had barely any real-life experience, having just graduated from university. He was neither an omega nor a beta who could bear children.

His past seemed filled with nothing but hardships.

And beyond all that, he already loved someone else and had even bonded with them.

Ji-an himself spoke lightly of his own past, yet every time he did, it was Ideun who felt the wound. He wielded his not-so-sharp thorns, pushing him away without hesitation.

If that was the case, then why did he cling to Ideun every night, struggling and breaking down? Why did he grip his clothes, bury himself in his arms, and soak his chest with tears before finally falling into deep sleep?

They hadn’t known each other long—barely a month. They had only shared their bodies a few times.

Could such a short time really lead to this level of blind fixation?

And to top it all off, it wasn’t even mutual imprinting—it was one-sided.

Ji-an had bonded with someone else.

Yet Ideun had bonded with Ji-an.

“Welcome to my hell.”

Ji-an’s words echoed in his mind.

Where exactly was that hell?

At least one thing was clear.

The longer he was separated from Ji-an, the closer he felt to losing his mind.

The anxiety and restlessness strangling him—was it simply because Ji-an had disappeared, or was it a physical reaction tied to the imprint?

If it was the latter, then Ji-an must be trapped in these same emotions every single moment.

And if that were true… there was no greater hell than that.

As soon as the blocked road, as tangled as his thoughts, cleared up slightly with the arrival of snowplows, Ideun chose to exit the highway first.

“Yes.”

As he slowed down on the curving road, Ideun answered the call before the phone could ring more than a few times.

— CEO.

“Ah, yes, Chief.”

Hearing Secretary Baek’s voice, which had been absent for some time, Ideun pulled over to the shoulder of the road as soon as he got off the highway.

— I’m calling because there are a few things I need to tell you.

“Go ahead.”

Why did his head start throbbing the moment he heard Secretary Baek’s voice? Ideun opened the water bottle beside him and took a sip.

— Are you aware that Seo Ji-an has a rut partner?

At the words that came without any preamble, Ideun slowly lowered the bottle from his lips.

— Since around the time Seo Ji-an was twenty, large sums of money have been intermittently deposited into his account. It appears that the source of this money is his rut partner. Although he is currently classified as a beta, he was a recessive omega until just a few months ago, so it’s entirely plausible. Also, the apartment he recently disposed of seems to have been purchased for him by that person.

“…I recall asking you to track Seo Ji-an’s current whereabouts, not to investigate his background.”

Hearing it from someone else’s mouth was completely different from merely suspecting it. Something he had only vaguely imagined was now becoming a confirmed fact.

But there were contradictions in Secretary Baek’s words. What kind of rut partner would pay enormous sums of money and buy a house just for having an irregular relationship? Wouldn’t it be more fitting to call that a sponsor? Or was it an alpha with outstanding financial power offering support? Was there really such a thing as a purely materialistic rut partner, devoid of any emotions?

And yet, Ji-an clearly had feelings for that person. On the other hand, his rough tendencies… they were only possible in an overwhelmingly one-sided relationship. He seemed proactive, but during intercourse, his actions were noticeably passive. He was clumsy at kissing yet familiar with knotting. He never tried to keep his eyes open during it. He would cling to him but then startle and pull away.

The dull throbbing in his head turned into a pounding pain in an instant.

— If Seo Ji-an has suddenly disappeared, I assumed it might be related to past events as well as the current situation. I apologize if I overstepped.

Ideun leaned his head against the seat’s headrest and shut his eyes tightly.

“So, have you figured out where he is now?”

This wasn’t the time to dig into Ji-an’s past. What was the point of knowing about a time before they had even met? Nothing would change even if he knew. He had already marked Ji-an.

— After seeing Mr. Noh Haneul and me at the company that day, he seemed to have left immediately. I believe Mr. Noh Haneul is involved.

Right. Noh Haneul. e would be involved too. They were university classmates, and he had messed with Ji-an by selfishly talking about marriage and whatnot. Ji-an already believed that his presence had ruined the confirmed relationship between them. That he was the reason the marriage had fallen apart and that Haneul was the victim.

And Haneul had skillfully gaslighted him, making it worse.

That night of the company dinner, if he hadn’t overheard their conversation at the café, he might have completely missed that part. Afterward, he had even uncovered the dirty secrets of the Noh family. But before he could explain everything to Ji-an and clear things up, Ji-an had disappeared.

Ji-an was already unstable. Waiting until he was more emotionally and physically settled before having a deep conversation had only complicated things further.

“Go on.”

— I believe Mr. Noh Haneul urged Seo Ji-an to leave, citing your marriage as the reason…

“Not that kind of connection. So, are you saying you still don’t know where Seo Ji-an is?”

Ideun cut him off, unwilling to entertain anything that would only add to his already muddled mind.

— Somewhere in the East Coast area…

“I already know that.”

— It seems he is with the alpha who was once his rut partner.

F*ck.

Before Secretary Baek even finished speaking, Ideun cursed internally. The hypothesis that had been hovering in his mind since Ji-an disappeared was now solidifying into certainty.

So, from the beginning, Ji-an had never been someone who could belong to him. In the end, he had returned to where he originally was.

A flood of tangled emotions rose, making it difficult to speak. Sensing his silence, Secretary Baek also seemed to be waiting for his response.

After a long pause, Ideun went over Baek’s words again before speaking.

“His rut partner was… So, you’re saying that’s in the past? He isn’t now?”

— Ah… He might still be.

There was an odd hesitation in Secretary Baek’s usually composed tone, prompting Ideun to open the eyes he had kept shut.

This bastard. He knew something.

The people Ji-an had seen in the conference room—Noh Haneul and Secretary Baek. And Secretary Baek had personally come to the company instead of simply making a call. He had also told him to leave everything to him, subtly suggesting he could investigate Seo Ji-an.

A moment flashed in Ideun’s mind—the moment he had left in the middle of their conversation due to an important incoming call. The moment Ji-an had disappeared. The moment Secretary Baek had conveniently called him during the chaos, and he had naturally asked him to find Ji-an.

What if Secretary Baek was the variable?

What if Ji-an had panicked and run away not because of Noh Haneul, but because of Secretary Baek?

But… why? Secretary Baek was one of the old woman’s people. What were the chances that he and Ji-an knew each other?

“Secretary Baek.”

— Yes.

“Look into that alpha who was supposedly Seo Ji-an’s rut partner. And keep tracking Ji-an’s location. If you need anything for your investigation, let me know anytime. Do you have anything else to report?”

— No. I’ll call again once I gather more information.

His tone had returned to normal, but the way he immediately agreed to end the call was suspicious. And with just a few phone calls, new facts had fallen into his hands.

“Seo Ji-an and Secretary Baek know each other. If Baek was the one who forcibly sent Ji-an to the alpha, and if there’s a connection to his late aunt’s medical treatment… F*ck, this is a mess.”

Now it was literally a race against time.

He had to find Seo Ji-an before Secretary Baek did—no matter what.